


a fox is a god with teeth

by unthank



Series: the endless sky [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Edo Period, Getting Together, Kitsune, M/M, Shinto, kiyoomi craves knowing the wild fox of a man who strays in his dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unthank/pseuds/unthank
Summary: At age ten Kiyoomi was faced with a fox-eyed boy who claimed to belong to the gods. At age twenty, he's determined to find out if this is true.What he doesn't expect is Atsumu, beautiful and somehow wilder than before, to stake a claim in Kiyoomi's life — and Kiyoomi craves him more than ever.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: the endless sky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974106
Comments: 18
Kudos: 179





	a fox is a god with teeth

**Author's Note:**

> [a fox has many teeth and yearns for a fight](https://open.spotify.com/track/6Sorz09TdlUnyo2Ja4uNzb?si=ipYLs6QpTnqoiVAGxIZ1HQ)
> 
> cw: mild/implied sexual content

Spring is a green tinged with white-pink.

Atsumu purred his words.

It was the first thing Kiyoomi noticed about him. His words curled and slipped from under his tongue with the well worn practice of a man who likes to hear himself speak. That same tongue could probably be as sharp as his gaze, he thought to himself, aware of the way Atsumu’s gold-glinted eyes slid over him. 

The man in front of Kiyoomi was far different to the boy he’d met so many years ago. Gone was the fox cub he knew, all fresh boyhood and made of round, wide grins; instead here he was, faced with a man who clearly knew he’d grown to be handsome. Kiyoomi couldn’t help but notice he was beautiful. He was all golden warm, his hair black and silky in the dying breeze, so different to the sleek, well ordered men Kiyoomi usually saw. It was wildness, he realised, that made Atsumu so stunning — so other.

If he looked for too long, he might get eaten.

It was as if he blinked once and Atsumu was in front of him, close enough his breath could almost touch Kiyoomi’s lips. He held his breath; half afraid, half eager. No one else dared get this close to him, to linger within his guarded safe space, to be so close he starts to wonder where he ends and this unruly man begins.

“It took you a long time to come see me,” Atsumu whispered, mouth pulling into a smirk. “A real long time.”

Kiyoomi wanted him closer. He wanted to shove him away. He didn’t know what he wanted.

“I didn’t come here for you,” he said instead.

Atsumu wrinkled his nose and stepped back, his smirk falling into a pout far too easily. He crossed his arms, and Kiyoomi, despite himself, wished he’d chosen to say anything else. He didn’t know this man in front of him — not at all, neither of them were infinitely lonely boys in strange new places anymore. But he did know, through an innate knowledge of mischievous boys that comes from having a cousin like Motoya, that Atsumu was about to start whining.

“You’re so  _ prickly _ now, Omi. More prickly that before, it ain’t right to be so mean to someone who’s been waitin’ for you,” Atsumu half-whined, proving Kiyoomi right.

“I didn’t ask you to wait for me,” Kiyoomi sighed. _ But you’re glad he did, aren’t you _ ?

Of course he was, he griped against his own thoughts. Why wouldn’t he be? Did he really meet a messenger who worked for the same god his  _ obaasan _ told him to observe? He’d wanted to know more about the strange fox eared boys since he was child, he wanted to know more about what they truly were. That was all there was to it. He certainly hadn’t thought of Atsumu outside those thoughts either. (Though Motoya would dispute that, with an innocent, wide eyed smile, and Kiyoomi was eternally grateful he wasn’t here with him.)

But Atsumu was close to him again, somehow closer than before. His fingers were under his jaw and Kiyoomi was certain he could feel the sharp edges of untouched claws. He walked around him, circled him, his bell chiming the only sound around them — Kiyoomi, against his own sensibilities, despite what he swore to himself, felt as if they were the only two people left in this cool spring world.

The other man was behind him, his hands brushing his hips, barely touching the sleek, black fabric.

“I’ll see you again soon,  _ Omi _ ,” he murmured, voice low and husky and dripping honey.

Kiyoomi felt something warm begin to pool in his stomach. His skin tingled, burned, and he turned around to catch the only man who could be so responsible for this feeling in his body. But Atsumu was gone, the space next to Kiyoomi as empty as it had been before. Almost as if the other man had never been there; a phantom belonging to the cravings of his desperate imagination.

All that was left was a chime, ringing in his ears as loudly as they always had.

✦

The past week had been uneventful to the point of mind-numbing boredom. Kiyoomi was certain that it was because of his brief, if confusing, encounter with Atsumu. You couldn’t have a lifetime of interesting happenstances when a self-proclaimed messenger of the gods infiltrated your life and made your heart beat faster.

His mother and aunt read their letters to him and Motoya. His older sister’s first child was likely to be born within a fortnight, joining his older brother in bringing good fortune and good names to their family; only his mother and  _ obaasan _ were to go, there wasn’t any need for Kiyoomi’s presence. Part of him was relieved he was so forgotten by his father, that he didn’t have to perform in front of each  _ daimyō _ and the tittering collection of court nobles. He wondered if he’d ever become a relevancy in his father’s ever intricate plans.

He knew, logically, that it was unlikely. For why else would he and his mother still live in this house, far away from anything at all?

Maybe, with his mother gone and only his quiet aunt at home, he could do whatever he wanted — he could visit the nearby shrine and try find the man that haunted his waking years. He could get answers to questions he hadn’t been able to ask before. He thinks to himself, decides without much debate, that he’ll go as soon as his mother has gone and make Atsumu answer him. And that would definitely be the end of it. 

As if the gods or spirits knew that Kiyoomi craved an end to this stretch of boredom, Motoya dashed into his room, tripping over his kimono and almost breaking the paper door. 

“Kiyoomi,” he gasped, almost laughing through the shock on his face. “Just— Kiyoomi you’ve got to come with me. There’s something— You’ve just got to come.”

Kiyoomi frowned, but stood up anyway, curiosity getting the better of him. His cousin was far more likely than him to get worked up, he was easily excited where Kiyoomi wished for silence, running more often than not and laughing louder than he ever could. But Motoya wouldn’t nearly ruin their house or his clothes on a whim. So, Kiyoomi reasoned, whatever he wanted him to see had to be something truly unusual; interesting.

Though as he entered the room Motoya led him to, he half-wished he’d stayed behind in the no nonsense comfort of his futon.

Sitting, knelt on the floor in a sign of utmost respect, was Atsumu.

He was dressed, this time, in an outfit of almost all white, red and deep blue peeking through the first layer of clothing. It was his religious outfit, Kiyoomi guessed. He didn’t know enough about  _ kannushi _ to say that it was, he only knew that looking so put together, so proper, didn’t suit Atsumu in the way his rough worn kimono usually did. It did no service to the broad muscles of his chest and well-worked arms.

Someone else was with him. A dark haired man with his hands tucked deep into his sleeves; yellow-green eyes slid over Kiyoomi and the man nudged Atsumu, whispering something under his breath.

Atsumu looked up then and a smile lit up his face. For a moment, Kiyoomi was transported back to the forest; he was ten years old and in front of him was a wild boy he felt intrinsically drawn to, a boy who’s sharp teeth and bright laughter infected him with a restlessness that had never left his bones. Before, the day he found him again, he’d felt like a deer caught in a hunter’s gaze; now he was stepping into the sun, back home where he could belong.

Something tugged in Kiyoomi’s chest and he couldn’t look away from the man who’d invaded his home.

“Kiyoomi,” his mother’s voice slipped through, startled him out of his trance.

He managed to look towards his mother, her hands were folded in her lap and her expression was unreadable. He knelt near her, bowing ever so slightly. Curiosity burned in his chest and he wanted to know what Atsumu wanted with his mother, why he was here, posing as someone of deep religious significance when he’d claimed to be something far more. 

“These young men,” his mother said carefully. “Have requested to speak with us, concerning you.”

There wasn’t an accusation in her voice, but it was there in words. Kiyoomi glanced at Atsumu. What could he have already said without him there to guide the conversation around his sensitive mother?

“Is that so,” he replied.

His mother straightened herself, impassive, commanding. “You may speak now,” she nodded to Atsumu and the other man.

A lazy smile ghosted the corners of Atsumu’s mouth and Kiyoomi felt his stomach twist in sudden anxiety. Who knew what this unpredictable man could possibly have to say.

“I met your son when you kindly visited our shrine,” spoke Atsumu, every word falling from his curled tongue. “We — that’s me and the rest of us — well we thought that Kiyoomi here had a lotta potential. To be one of us, that is. A  _ kannushi _ , to live and work at our shrine for the gods and all that.”

_ What _ ?

Kiyoomi almost choked before turning to face Atsumu, unable to ask him what in every gods’ name was going on? He,  _ Sakusa Kiyoomi _ , a  _ kannushi _ ? A man he barely knew wanted him to serve the gods?

It seemed his mother had similar questions and raised her hand before Atsumu could continue speaking.

“His father isn’t one of you. As far as I understand it, your position is hereditary?”

Atsumu was suddenly very quiet. His cheeks were dusted pink and he fiddled with his fingers, clearly, obviously, trying to act as if he was finding the right words where he didn’t have any at all. Kiyoomi wanted to curl in on himself. He wanted to bury himself in his kimono and never leave it again. How stupid was Atsumu anyway, to come here with such grand sweeping statements only to have nothing to back up at all? Kiyoomi didn’t want to look at him, he couldn’t bare to, not when he knew this would end in Atsumu’s embarrassment, his own name dragged through it all.

“Yes,” the other man suddenly said. His voice was even, measured, as unfathomable at his cool glances were. “It’s usually a hereditary position. But we make exceptions, sometimes.”

“Yeah!” Atsumu seemed to have found his voice again, louder than it was before. “Y’know, when people have an aptitude.”

“Exactly.”

“And when people are from particularly good families, ones of real good standing,” the smile Atsumu gave Kiyoomi’s mother fell into a smirk, his flattery far more than implied.

To Kiyoomi’s surprise, his mother blushed soft pink. “I see…” She said.

She coughed then, composing herself where she’d almost fallen. The elegant woman he knew as his mother was taking shape before his eyes, and Kiyoomi almost wondered how often she had to build herself up into this around the company they kept.

“Well,” she folded her hands back in her lap. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if Kiyoomi were to spend time with you at the shrine, to learn about what this position entails. Of course, I’ll talk to his father, but he may visit and study.”

It took Kiyoomi a moment to realise what his mother had said. He sat still, ready to let her rejection fall past his ears and he could carry on with his life, finding answers in a way he concocted himself. But he didn’t, under any circumstances, expect his mother to agree with the strange, clearly lying men in front of them. How could she believe the flattery of the man who’d blundered his way through the conversation only moments before?

“Mother, wait—” he blurted out.

“Hush, Kiyoomi,” she held a finger up. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another smirk dart across Atsumu’s face and Kiyoomi wanted nothing more than to throttle the impudence out of him.

“While I am away, I want you to go learn,” his mother said. “I’ll bring up this discussion with your father. And no, don’t talk back to me, Kiyoomi.”

It was all he could do to keep his mouth shut, to bow stiffly as Atsumu left and he could escape back to his room to brood in the suddenness of the changes around him. He disliked his mother deciding to change his life on a whim, to give him over to someone she didn’t know — who she had no idea knew him and came here, he suspected, just to find a way to get closer to him. Change wasn’t something he liked, he’d avoided it for the past ten years.

At least he had an excuse to find the answers he needed. He had a reason to see the man who occupied his thoughts, whether he liked it or not.

✦

Kiyoomi had walked to the shrine with every intention of confronting Atsumu, consequences and possible humiliation be damned. He had no way, he knew, of verifying that Atsumu was indeed a fox spirit — perhaps his half-dreaming self had decided to see that, to pretend the boy he met in the woods was a  _ youkai _ instead of a lost, living human. Despite this and the fear of Atsumu laughing at him, he had no choice but to find out if his childhood memories were true. 

(And to find out, though he wouldn’t admit it, what Atsumu really wanted with him. To find out why he couldn’t stop thinking about this incorrigible man.)

It was early in the day when he finally climbed the steps. Only farmers would be awake at this time, tilling the earth and creating life that fed the people around them, warming starving stomachs at the end of every day. He hoped that no one else would be here, save for a few elderly, devoted people. If he was early, he might be able to catch Atsumu unawares and force him into sitting down, just the two of them, and getting every answer out of him. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was all he had to go on.

The air around him was cold, crisp, and the sky was tinged pale pink and blue. Spring felt far away at this time of day, a distant memory compared to the winter he felt prickling at his skin.

A rush of black in front of him startled him. He stepped back, tripping on the edge of his  _ hakama, _ and Kiyoomi felt his heart leap into his throat as he fell backwards. He was sure this could be the end. His head was going to hit the hard stone steps behind him and he’d crack, bleed out here, away from his family and without seeing that fox-eyed boy again. 

A sudden arm around his waist and a hand gripping his wrist pulled Kiyoomi up from the edge of the end. He opened his eyes again, unaware that he’d even closed them. Bright gold eyes met his, pupils narrow as a cat’s and felt as if he was caught in a trap. He let himself be pulled upright, close against Atsumu’s chest and he felt, for the second time in the past few moments, that his breath was escaping his lungs.

“You gotta be more careful, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu laughed, his voice brushing Kiyoomi’s ear.

Kiyoomi couldn’t find any words in his mouth, it’s all he could do to look at the other man, take in his coal black ears and the sharp teeth that were so close to his own lips. He didn’t know what he wanted, right then. He wanted to feel those fangs against his throat; he wanted to kiss him until his lips bled from the pressure.

But instead, he frowned, wrinkled his nose.

“Thank you,” he said, refusing to make eye contact as he untangled himself from Atsumu’s uncannily strong grasp. 

“What’re you doin’ here anyway, Omi? You didn’t seem real keen when we visited.”

Kiyoomi gritted his teeth and huffed, “That’s because you turned up unannounced and decided my life with my  _ mother _ . You didn’t even speak to me about it first.”

Atsumu looked away, his lips pursed slightly and his cheeks red. His ears started to droop down and for a moment, Kiyoomi nearly felt guilty for speaking so harshly — but Atsumu deserved it, someone had to reprimand him if his friends and fellow foxes wouldn’t.

“Sorry, Omi,” Atsumu muttered. “I shoulda checked in on you before makin’ such a big move.”

Just briefly, Kiyoomi was stunned. He hadn’t expected this man to apologise, to admit that he was in the wrong. He’d seemed far too proud and arrogant, too sure of himself, to be the one to apologise first.

“It’s,” Kiyoomi struggled to find his words again. “It’s okay. I just need to talk to you.”

Atsumu seemed to brighten up at that, his ears pricking forward and another smile lighting up his face, this one brighter and sharper than any Kiyoomi had seen on him before.

He led Kiyoomi through the shrine, through small wooden doors and under elegant gates until they came to a building, built at the very back. It was away from everywhere else, hidden by tall trees and the towering black roof of the shrine. An unlit lantern hung by the door, prayers tied in tight knots were strung along the wire holding it up. The door creaked as he slid it open, the old wood grinding against the floor and pushing debris up into the air. Kiyoomi followed him in, staying close to him in this foreign, silent place.

Inside was far more pleasant that he had expected just from seeing the exterior, and he almost felt guilty for assuming Atsumu lived in a decrepit home — that he was shunned by the shrine’s  _ kannushi _ or even his own people.

In the middle of the room was a table, low and made of lacquered wood that rivalled even the finery Kiyoomi’s mother was so fond of. Atsumu’s brother sat at it, opposite the same man he’d brought to his house the other day. They were both focused, intently, on a game of  _ shogi _ , so focused that they didn’t move when Atsumu coughed and sat down next to them.

“Hey,” Atsumu coughed again.

Neither of the other men moved, only their tails twitching gave any indication that they acknowledged Atsumu’s presence, though Kiyoomi suspected that it might just be a natural reaction. He sat down next to Atsumu. The cushion was large, surprisingly comfortable, and he didn’t feel at ease enough to sit opposite him just yet, separated by a table and two foxes he knew even less. 

He found himself looking over at Atsumu, noticing the way his black hair curled behind his ear, the way his jaw was sharp and a slight shadow could be seen. There was something joyous in Atsumu that Kiyoomi wished he could touch. He wanted to reach out to him, to pull him closer; he wanted to feel the heat of his body against the human coldness of his own and press their mouths together. He wanted to know what it was to breathe the life and gold that came from this fox-wild man beside him. 

There was something both holy and natural about the way he felt, no matter how much his logic told him it couldn’t be. There was a bone deep inside his chest and a thread was tied around it. It tugged and it pulled him in every direction Atsumu went — it was, Kiyoomi hoped, he longed deep in the crevices of his heart, that it was tied to a similar bone in him.

He wanted to hold onto him for as long as he could.

“You can stare all you want, Omi,” Atsumu said, his sharp leer cutting through Kiyoomi’s reverie. “I know, I’m gorgeous. It’s okay.”

Kiyoomi didn’t have time to think before his fist connected with Atsumu’s nose and the subsequent crunch of bone against bone.

Atsumu lay sprawled on the floor. His hand clutched at his nose, attempting to stop the blood that flowed far too freely, his ears lay flat against his head and he stared up at Kiyoomi in shock. Neither of them moved. The air in the room seemed stifling, cloying them both and suffocating any sound that might have passed between them. Kiyoomi didn’t know what to do. He held his fist against his chest and stared, wide-eyed, at the man he’d just decked to the floor for a reason he didn’t entirely understand himself.

The tension was cut by a snort from Atsumu’s brother, followed by a snicker from the other, fox-eyed man.

“That’s what you get for runnin’ your mouth constantly, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu sat bolt upright, indignation visible in his tail with every hair standing on end.

“Whaddya mean by that, ‘Samu?!” He spluttered.

His brother, Osamu, Kiyoomi now remembered, just laughed again, “You’re always sayin’ things like that. I’m surprised this is the first time someone hit you right in your dumb face.”

“We have the same face!”

“Rin thinks mine is prettier.”

“It’s true, it is,” the other man finally spoke, a trace of a laugh in his even-toned voice.

Atsumu scrunched his nose, “Ew.”

At least he didn’t seem to be in shock anymore, Kiyoomi thought to himself. Though he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be here after hitting someone who was, despite his previous reservations, clearly something otherworldly and godlike.

“You say that,” Osamu spoke again. “But you’ve gone and brought your human paramour here.”

Kiyoomi felt himself flush, his ears burning just as much as his cheeks felt they were. He looked at Atsumu, only to see his nose had stopped bleeding, but his face and neck were just as red as Kiyoomi was sure he was. The other man avoided his gaze, choosing to look at the floor instead of anywhere else. 

A human paramour? Was he a  _ secret lover _ ? Is that what Atsumu had told his brother and friend what they were?

“He’s…” Atsumu muttered.

Kiyoomi folded his hands in his lap, determined to hear whatever this furiously blushing boy had to say — to make him say it if he wouldn’t right now.

“Go on,” Osamu encouraged, a little too meanly.

“He’ll… Just be my lover… If he wants to be. That is. Yes.”

If Kiyoomi had been losing his composure before this moment, he had definitely lost the very last strand of it now. His whole body felt like it was burning — did Atsumu know he’d been thinking of every intimacy with him?. All Kiyoomi could do was hide his face in his hands and hope that this would end, that he could move on from this flustered, heart-beating moment.

Osamu and Rin turned back to their game, ignoring them both now that their job was done, enough mischief planted and watched from their calm perspective. 

The fabric of his sleeve was brushed and Kiyoomi felt a warm body settle next to him. Atsumu seemed to have forgiven him for the sudden hit. He was closer than ever before, almost as if a barrier had been broken between them, that they had reached a new height, a new meaning, to the strange relationship they had. Kiyoomi felt Atsumu’s hand entangle with his, hidden by the low table. It was a comfort, he was grounded; Atsumu’s warmth welcomed him home.

✦

Even in early spring the nights were as cold as winter.

Kiyoomi was cold. His feet felt as if they were frozen, no amount of tucking in was keeping them warm against the tempted frost of early spring. He hoped it warmed up soon. Winter had never been his favourite season, it reminded him of the aching loneliness of leaving his family home and living in an unfamiliar house, far away from everything he knew.

He no longer had Motoya to keep him company, either, their mothers deciding that it was better for them to have their own separate rooms now. It was to prepare them for the future, he knew. He wouldn’t have his cousin by his side forever. He didn’t know who he would have.

There was a sudden pop in the air, somewhere in his room, and he heard a bell chime, ring in his ears long after it stopped. He sat up. He didn’t know who could be in his room at this hour. He wasn’t sure who could’ve got in without a servant shouting or a door being slid open, scraping the floor loud enough to raise him from his near sleep grogginess. The chime was familiar — he’d heard it in his dreams and in his waking hours enough to hope it might be  _ him _ .

“Omi?” A voice whispered, and Kiyoomi could hear the hopeful smile in it.

“Atsumu,” he replied.

A globe of light fizzed and began to glow, lighting up Atsumu’s face and the room around them. He held it in the palm of his hand, like it was a lamp, and Kiyoomi was certain he was the one who’d created that light. He walked towards him and knelt over his futon. The light hung in the space above them and Kiyoomi, like every time he was in this man’s presence, felt the air escape from his lungs and his very being freeze in anticipation.

Atsumu’s mouth was so close to his now, his breath shallow and lips almost touching his. It was only a second, and Kiyoomi was sure he’d have missed it if he blinked, but his mouth was on his quicker than the thought had passed through his hazy mind.

He wanted more.

Atsumu’s hair was softer than he expected as he tugged on it, pulled him down closer and kissed him like a man starved. He wanted this and he craved far more. Atsumu kissed him back, hands bracing on the futon and his own body lowered closer, pressing against Kiyoomi’s. There was nothing in the room except them; it was only them and the glowing, godlike light that lit them up, weak in comparison to the fire Kiyoomi felt beginning to burn in his gut.

“Run away with me,” Atsumu whispered between kisses.

Kiyoomi broke apart from him then, he knew his lips were swollen red, but it wasn’t enough. His head was spinning as he tried to collect his thoughts, tried to answer Atsumu as best he could.

“I hardly know you,” he managed to say.

“We’re meant to know each other.”

Whatever response he had was cut off by Atsumu’s teeth, gently scraping his bottom lip. Hands brushed his hips, squeezed gently at his waist. Heat was pooling in his gut, stirring something in him Kiyoomi had never felt before, and he gasped as he felt Atsumu rock his growing hardness against his.

He could think about their future later. What he needed right now was right in front of him — it was right on top of him. He hadn’t been so close to another man before, he hadn’t wanted to be, Atsumu’s touching felt like gold against his skin and he never wanted it to end. He never wanted to be apart from this.

His teeth were against his neck, scraping him and biting him, nipping at tender skin without drawing blood.

Kiyoomi wasn’t sure if he wanted to bleed or not. 

All he knew is that he wanted this wild, half-godlike man inside him — claiming him. He didn’t want to feel this close to anyone else.

_ Atsumu must feel the same _ , he thought to himself as they ground against each other, his breath catching in his throat. For why else would he suggest they leave together, run further than Kiyoomi had ever been.

Atsumu broke apart, looking down at Kiyoomi. His pupils were blown wide and his mouth, red with want, was sharper than Kiyoomi had ever seen before. 

“Live with us,” he said, breathless. “My home is yours. My heart always has been.”

_ He’d still be here, he wouldn’t disappear _ . Kiyoomi wasn’t sure if those thoughts were about himself or Atsumu, each was equally true. Living with Atsumu, staying at the shrine, serving the gods in a way he never expected to — he could do that, neither of them would disappear into the ether, never to be found again. He could follow the path he knew was already set out for him. He could do things properly; he could make his father happy and love the wild fox who staked a claim in his growing warm heart.

Could he do this? Take Atsumu’s hand and move beyond anything he’d ever known; a risk and desire all in one?

“I will,” he said, quieter than anything, into Atsumu’s waiting mouth. “Take me home.”

✦

Atsumu stood on top of the world. 

It was warm, summer had arrived with all the ferocity ad humidity it could possibly muster. Looking at the high-rise skyline of Tokyo, Atsumu knew it’d be insufferable in the coming months. He could almost feel sweat beginning to bead in his hairline, starting to pool in the collar of his jacket; if he could choose a season to live in, he’d always choose the cool inbetweens of spring or autumn.

His favourite memories were attached to both of them. They were kisses and promises, saying hello and holding onto each other, learning to love a man who proved himself more difficult than most. But all of that was worth it to him. It had always been worth it. 

He jumped from his perch, looking far more human than he had ever done. It was strange, he thought to himself, to be like this. But it always had to be this way to begin with. It’d been like this every time apart from the first, when his love was young enough to still believe in the magical, godly aspects of their shared world; when Atsumu had been young enough to not be afraid of rejection.

The summer heat crunched beneath his feet as he stepped into the city. Loud lights and looming buildings crowded him, overwhelmed him. He wondered how his love, who hated unfamiliar touch and everything being too much, could handle such a place. But maybe humans belonged here.

It’d been long enough, Atsumu knows, he could get used to this overcrowded, fast paced way of life. He could exist like every human did — if that’s what it took this time.

“I’ll find you,” he said, to the sky, to a man who was far from home. “Wait for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> the first part of this series came out almost three months ago and i've been planning the rest of it since then. i didn't know what direction i wanted this fic to go in, i just knew that i wanted to write it. after i planned the end, i knew exactly how i wanted this instalment to go - with kiyoomi and atsumu getting to know each other and experiencing their profound bond for the very first time. 
> 
> my interpretation of kiyoomi in this fic is different to my other interpretations of him. the edo period was far different from the current age (heisei and reiwa), which i think would be reflected in the way he interacts with the world. of course, he's still prickly, but kiyoomi wouldn't be the kiyoomi we love if he wasn't.
> 
> 1\. _kannushi_ (also known as _shinshoku_ ) are people responsible for taking care of a shinto shrine, as well as leading worship for the shrine's respective god. traditionally they were also considered intermediaries between the gods and humankind.  
> 2\. the track i linked in the beginning notes is _the law of surprise_ from the netflix series _the witcher_. its part of the playlist i have for this au and it fits the mood of this fic so well
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed reading this!
> 
> twitter @[kuguken](https://twitter.com/kuguken)


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